


Electrocution

by kinglyace



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Electrocution, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21997474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinglyace/pseuds/kinglyace
Summary: Sam Porter Bridges makes the mistake of both pissing off the local MULEs and forgetting where the camp is.
Kudos: 23





	Electrocution

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have such lovely anons in my inbox via tumblr that indulge my whump fantasies so this is inspired by this! I might write for this, if I get the itch to get into the comfort factor. Right now I just wanted to hit poor Sam with the whump bat.

Sam doesn’t realize what’s happening until the tip of a spear grazes his hip and the crackle of electricity races over his skin and makes the world explode into a sheet of white. He stumbles blindly, teeth gritted through the pain as he tries to find a way to ground himself but instead his foot finds air. His vision clears a split second before he tumbles, leg screaming in pain as it twists awkwardly and he slides down the bank into a rocky crevasse. He barely manages to tuck his head and roll the last few feet, cargo cases raining down around him as they topple. It drowns out the sound of the MULE horn and the roar of an oncoming truck but he knows they’re coming, just like every time before this.

His leg is numb and too sensitive at the same time, prickles of pain running up and down his muscles and feeling as if he were made of static and not flesh. It won’t bear weight or bend as he claws his way back up, breathing hard to hobble forward and snatch up his packages once again. Sam tells himself it’ll be fine, he’s escaped worse than this. A little shock isn’t worrying but the user behind it is.

He flinches as another spear flies by his head and buries itself in rock, sparking angrily in the dim light. He wastes no time in scrambling up and out of the crevasse but the MULEs are right behind him, screaming their frustration at his back.

His leg still won’t cooperate and Sam vaguely wonders if the exoskeleton is damaged too. He can’t run like this and only manages a hobble that makes his back protest in pain. But he only needs to outrun them just a little longer, enough to make it to the gate of the Knot before him.

He feels the air begin to charge before another spear hits him, burying the tip into his shoulder and igniting a second later. He can’t breathe this time, lungs freezing in place as he falls and chokes. He hits the ground but barely registers it as he spasms, every nerve on fire and eating all the way into his core. He tries, desperately, to lift a hand and pull the spear from his body yet his hand only shakes in midair. He can’t get in enough air, can barely see beyond the blurred haze in front of him, and his limbs just won’t move no matter how hard he tries.

It feels like ages until Sam finally sucks in a shaky breath, eyes watering and numbness creeping along his body. Moving his arm becomes a monumental task, not helped by BB’s cries or his vision swimming in and out. It’s a victory when he yanks the spear from his shoulder, warm blood oozing down his suit. But it’s short lived, as numerous yellow boots encircle him. He doesn’t need to look up but it’s not his choice as a boot plants itself firmly on his neck. They waste no time in grabbing his packages, hands pulling and tearing them free to chatter excitedly over their treasure. Sam doesn’t really understand it, can’t quite parse why it attracts them like cats to catnip. 

“Sam Porter Bridges. You’re the fucking Porter that’s been raiding our camps and stealing our shit,” the person with a boot planted on his neck sneers, venom dripping from their words. He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the tip of a spear is buried into his back and lightning courses through him again. A strangled cry breaks past his lips but it’s swallowed up by the roar in his ears and the blinding white that engulfs his sight. He barely registers the laughter of the MULEs as he sinks into the ground once the fire passes, his chest heaving as he tries to suck in air again. BB whimpers below him, but Sam can’t move to comfort them.

“You know, if I didn’t think BRIDGEs would send their damn dogs after us for you, I’d show you a thing or two about living out here. Taking our shit like we don’t need it.”

Sam knows it’s coming this time but it doesn’t lessen the pain, and his jaw hurts from clenching so hard. The twitching in his limbs doesn’t abate so quickly this time and his vision won’t focus back up. His mouth is starting to taste like it’s full of pennies and rain water.

He loses track of how many times they shock him, taking turns with their spears and cackling as he spasms beneath their leering gazes. It’s anywhere from seconds to minutes between prods but it’s impossible to tell between rippling pain and half-choked screams. It’s not until he feels the first faint drops of rain on his face do the MULEs curse and start to back off. One eye clears just enough to watch as they back away from him, clutching their stolen cargo and pointing to the sky behind him.

“Better run quick, Porter,” the leader sneers one last time before they turn and disappear back over the crevasse and towards their camp. They leave him nothing, besides his agony.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I started writing this the night of Christmas Day at midnight because I became possessed by this idea and well... I had to deliver! Massive thanks to my lovely anons who feed my indulgences!


End file.
